


Banal nadas

by Aviena



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:07:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviena/pseuds/Aviena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's loved her before, in a different life, in a different time, when he was still Fen'Harel and she was Andruil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banal nadas

Oh, but she was beautiful. Beside her, the Arrow knew nothing of swiftness. Beside her, the Bow seemed a weak and pitiful thing, and the Wood was barren and lifeless. The _Vir Tanadhal_ was pathetic, scavenged fantasy - but looking at her, Solas could forgive the Dalish their delusions. Divinity was a nebulous, unknowable thing – but looking at her, Solas knew faith.

 

_“I do not forget a transgression, Dread Wolf.” Silk ropes cutting into his chest and tree bark rough against his back. Fire in Andruil’s eyes. Golden arrows and golden hair glinting in the sunlight._

_“Perhaps…a year and a day in my bed. The day in payment for the halla, and the year because you are so pretty, hmm?”_

 

He had been young and foolish; unwilling to appear the supplicant. If presented with that chance again, he would fall to his knees and beg for her punishment. 

Perhaps that chance might someday come, but for now it was another that waited on her pleasure.

“I do not forget a transgression, magister.” Temri tented her fingers, leaning back on her throne, and the assembled observers held their breath in anticipation of her judgement. Golden tiles and golden banners glinted in the sunlight. The marks on her face were meaningless; the hall of the Inquisition was undeserving of her brilliance.

“Bring down your blades and free me from the physical,” the magister spat. He was a filthy, confused creature, wallowing in the wreckage of Fen’Harel’s folly. “Glory awaits me!”

She gave the magister the death he wanted, but Solas’ silent pleas went unanswered.

She did not remember.

There were times passion nearly overcame him, and he would feel the words trembling on his lips. Pressing those lips against hers was the only way to silence them. But there was no remedy for his mounting terror. His desperation. _Banal nadas_ , he would tell himself. Nothing is inevitable.

He would not lose her again.

 

_”Can you hear the singing?” Armour made of the Void itself, sucking the light from the world. Weapons forged of darkness hanging from her belt. Sunlight still glinting in her hair. Madness swirling in her eyes._

_“Come, Dread Wolf. I will teach you to hear it.”_

\---

“Can you hear the singing?” Temri beckoned him to the balcony and pressed a finger to his lips. Her marked hand clung tightly to his. Her touch was hot, cold, _electrifying_ \- but he had loved her for an eternity, and the thrill had become a part of him. Her words stopped his heart, but the distant sounds of celebration drifting upwards from the courtyard restored its rhythm.

“It is beautiful. Like you.”

Were he mortal, her answering smile might have slain him. “Sweet talker.” She kissed him, and lips heavy with the weight of centuries were briefly soothed. His arms, though - they ached for her, no matter how tightly they embraced her. She revelled in his eagerness, and he exulted in her spirit.

This was the only sort of worship Solas knew.

It was Temri that broke the kiss, her lips wandering to the curve of his jaw and ghosting along the flat of his ear. Solas smiled in spite of the piercing ache in his chest. His joy was laced with despair. She was crushed against him, as close as she could be on this side of the Veil, but he needed more.

He brushed his lips against her ear, feeling her shiver in his arms. “Have you heard the story of Andruil’s lover?”

Temri pulled back enough to look at him, her eyes alight with interest. “I’ve heard of when she attempted to swear the Dread Wolf to service in her bed.” Her fingers drifted downward, plucking teasingly at his waistband, but Solas knew he had her attention. She thirsted for knowledge like the Templars longed for lyrium. “Is that what you mean?”

“Not exactly.” He nuzzled into the curve of her throat as he spoke, and Temri folded her arms about his neck. He had held her this way before, in another lifetime. Standing here like this, with the faint sound of singing drifting on the breeze, considerations like death and eternity seemed suddenly unimportant.

\---

You know Andruil as the Goddess of the Hunt, _vhenan_. The Dalish call her the Mother of Hares, and Sister of the Moon. She was all of these things, but to call Andruil a huntress is to call Arlathan a mere city, or to describe the sun as nothing more than a light in the sky. Andruil was the searing brilliance of a thousand suns, and a jewel that outshone of all Elvhenan’s splendours. 

She was the Goddess of Sacrifice, and her lover was a fool.

It began as a dalliance, spurred by youthful pride and lust. Andruil was beautiful, _vhenan_ , like you, and after their first meeting her lover could think of nothing but her radiance. Remarkably, Andruil was just as enthralled by him, and after a time their desire blossomed into a more virtuous emotion. Love - pure and honest. But they were both young, powerful and headstrong. Neither could bow to the other, and in their folly they allowed this to keep them apart.

They went on like this for the span of many mortal lives, hiding their feelings behind masks of intrigue and competition. While they dallied, the world grew dark, and Andruil found her brightness dimming. In desperation, she disguised herself in the stuff of the Void. Her light died for weeks at a time as she plumbed the depths of the abyss, seeking to slay the Darkness with its own tools.

But her lover was a fool, and a proud one. Rather than stand at her side, he thought to stop the Darkness himself, believing his own cunning a match for the dark gods. If not for his pride, perhaps Andruil would have been spared the madness.

But her lover was a fool.

\---

Temri’s eyes were wide and glistening, her lips parted in wonder. “My Keeper never told that story.”

_Banal nadas._

“I came across it in my journeys of the Fade,” Solas murmured. The lie came to his lips easily, though it hurt to give it voice. Perhaps it was for the best that Temri recalled nothing of her previous life. Andruil would have drawn the lies into the light, kicking and screaming if need be, and shattered them like glass. “It is possible the Dalish told this story once, but have forgotten it. It is also possible they never knew it at all.” His fingers trembled slightly as he caressed the markings on her cheek.

“What was her lover’s name?”

“I think perhaps his name is less important than his mistakes, _vhenan_.”

Temri removed her arms from his neck, and Solas suppressed a sigh. Relief and disappointment pooled and mingled. She did not remember. She snatched up his hands, rubbing her thumbs across his callused palms before kissing the inside of each wrist. Her eyes, burning with Andruil’s fire, stayed locked on his. 

“It was a sad story,” she said. “But it was beautiful.”

 

_”It was beautiful.” Tears on her face and on his lips. Quivering, cold flesh, stained by the dark gods’ corruption. Darkness closing in._

_“Why did the singing stop?”_

 

Solas studied her face, intent on memorising every miniscule detail. “It _is_ beautiful – but it is nothing beside you.”

“ _Ma serannas_ , sweet talker.”

Beside her, eternity was but the blink of an eye.


End file.
